Me And You
by shouldbstudying
Summary: Ten months into Lou working with Will - he is alive and happy and she is happily denying her feelings aren't real. And perhaps... so is he.


**A/N: Hi folks, I'm back with another story! I say story because I think I might actually let this one be more than three chapters, eek. Hope you enjoy, leave a review. x**

I had been working with Will for ten months now and it looked like I was going to be around for a while. My parents cheered when I told them I'd been signed on to continue and we drank the good wine that night. I was happy at my job despite Will's jokes. Or maybe I was happy because of them, I'm not sure.

Around the six month mark of working for Will, he had completely invested himself in his physio, requesting to both Nathan and I that we triple the amount of physio. There had been huge improvements - at the start, just gaining strength in his fingers so that he no longer slipped at his joystick. As time went on, he could hold items for longer periods until he was almost completely confident in holding the expensive looking vase in the corner of the annexe. I hadn't wanted to try out that theory when he'd offered to show me but to my delight, he'd held it in his hands with little effort. His grin showed me his millions of new hopes. And soon, he was able to move his arms. He was still working on that - his shoulders were difficult to lift or twist but he had no trouble moving his elbows now. I grew fond of his cemented smiles.

We began cooking his meals together where I learnt that Will had always hated my tomato soup and pesto pasta ("the green gravy," he'd reminded me through scoffs) but had a soft spot for anything with chocolate or prawns.

"Pass me the saffron please Clark," Will instructed as he spiced his seafood paella, almost completely made by himself. The sense of pride in me was immense and I didn't stop beaming at him until he threw some carrot ends at me, telling me to make myself useful. I watched Will become more and more comfortable in this lifestyle: he no longer dreaded our trips out although he warned me another trip alike the races and he'd have my head for dinner. He no longer minded the staring eyes or the hums of "that poor man." Because he didn't consider himself inferior anymore.

Will wheeled beside me on the footpath to a pond near the castle. His laughter filled the air and the ducks that surrounded the pond came closer to the sand in the hopes of bread crusts.

"You know something Clark," Will said as I sat on the bench beside him. "There was a period of time in your first six months with me where I wasn't sure if this life was for me. I wasn't sure if... well, if I should stay in this life at all. But you..." He laughed, facing me. My stomach did backflips as he met my eyes. "You have given me something I can never repay you for... hope."

"Not bad for someone who's been nowhere and done nothing, eh?"

He raised an eyebrow, still staring at me. "Yes," he said with a small smile growing on his face. "Not bad at all." I felt humbled by the information I'd been given: I couldn't imagine the horrible lengths he'd go to end his life but after seeing the deep gashes on his wrist, I felt overwhelmed. We faced the water together, watching as some ducks swam off to the other side of the pond as tourists threw bread. We stayed like that for several minutes before Will said he was hungry and we returned to the annexe.

I'm not sure when I came to terms with the fact that I had feelings for Will. I'd become invested in making him happy. His happiness made me happy and somewhere along the way of him teasing my clothes and life choices, I'd noticed some feelings for him that I'd never had for Patrick. I mean, he'd never been anything but friendly.

I'm sure that Will didn't reciprocate these feelings though. I mean, he'd never been anything but friendly. _Except for the concert... and the wedding._ The way his eyes had followed me in that red dress, I was so sure that he returned my feelings. But we returned from the wedding as if nothing had happened. I'd been perfectly sensible, limiting myself to one drink and he'd been perfectly insensible, downing several of the pink drinks that travelled around. He was blissfully drunk, any negative feelings from being at his ex's wedding completely forgotten.

It had been as we were leaving, well past sunset, that Will had told me to stop and look at the view. The city was alit, the lights of houses and streetlights seemingly going on forever.

"It's beautiful," I'd murmured to him, hand resting on his arm.

"Like you," he'd told me, completely straight-faced, as if alcohol hadn't played any part in his words. I sat on his lap, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and we sat there in close proximity for what must have been an hour. "Lou," he'd whispered. I turned to face him, our faces barely a breath away from each other. He smelled of a sweet cologne and alcohol. His eyes were on my lips, his head tilted so that I could practically taste him.

I wanted to kiss him. I remember how vividly I'd wanted to kiss him and yet, I didn't. Instead, I smiled and hopped off his chair and wheeled him to the car, not quick enough to miss the shock and disappointment plaster across his face.

After that night, our relationship had lightened. I can't say for sure whether Will even remembered the night, being as drunk as he had been but we pretended that the night had never happened. He joked and he laughed and maybe I imagined it but I swear he was more guarded, less willing to share his thoughts. That's probably me overreacting though. How could someone as brilliant and refined as Will possibly have feelings for somebody as simple as myself? I locked the hope away, labelling it under _never happening._

I'll never understand why I hadn't kissed him. Maybe my feelings were still at a point where I refused to acknowledge them, maybe I was still stuck on the horrific break up with Patrick after I'd told him I was moving into the annexe or maybe it was because I made it my personal mission not to be happy. Either way, nothing became of Will and I. Months later and I still ignored my feelings.

But things were okay.

The sun shone and the flowers in the garden grew. Will was alive and content, humming some Beethoven sonata in the lounge room and I was content just being near him. Everything was... okay.


End file.
